The Tribune

By IVOINE INGRAHAM

THERE'S a phrase that gets tossed around casually in Caribbean conversations: “third world.”

It’s usually spoken with a shrug, sometimes with resignation, and occasionally with defiance. Then there’s the phrase’s supposed opposite: “first world,” a label attached to countries we admire, envy, or measure ourselves against.

But here’s the uncomfortable truth we rarely say out loud: no country ever becomes first world by wishing for it. You cannot arrive at a first-world destination carrying a third-world mentality.

This contradiction is more painfully obvious in The Bahamas.

We want the world to see us as different, above the rest of the Caribbean. We remind everyone of our proximity to the United States. We boast of our banking sector, our athletic talent, our tourism brand, and our global visibility. And, in some respects, those claims are valid. If our exposure to international interest for financial services, perceived hospitality, or Olympic medals were the measuring stick, we could make a credible case for first-world status.

In several communities, there are beautiful homes with lush gardens. Many noticeable communities have been developed with well-kept streets and are conducive to comfortable living. But development is not just about money, infrastructure, or location.

Development begins with mindset. And right now, the pride that once defined Bahamian society is slipping—visibly, audibly, and embarrassingly, especially in too many of our neighbourhoods.

Drive through large sections of New Providence today and ask yourself an honest question: Is this how people who love their country behave?

This is not an indictment of everyone who lives south of Shirley Street either. There are still homeowners who keep their yards manicured, their houses freshly painted, and their surroundings respectable. But they are increasingly surrounded by the opposite: unkempt properties, piles of garbage, discarded appliances, and an air of resignation that says, “This is just how it is now.”

That resignation is the real problem.

There was a time when many of these same areas took enormous pride in appearance. Cleanliness was not enforced by law alone. It was enforced by social expectation. You did not embarrass yourself, your family, or your neighbourhood by living in filth. Today, that unspoken code has eroded, replaced by indifference and silence.

And silence is deadly.

We pass mountains of garbage daily and convince ourselves it’s not our responsibility because we didn’t put it there. We complain privately but refuse to hold each other accountable publicly. We watch trucks dump garbage on vacant lots. (We even saw a video of a truck caught red-handed dumping at Bonefish Pond National Park, which is supposed to be treated with special care, only to be uncovered and left unchecked.)

We shrug it off as if disorder is inevitable. Laws against indiscriminate dumping exist, but they are treated like jokes—ignored because enforcement is weak and consequences are rare.

And then there’s the most jarring contradiction of all.

Some people live in squalor but leave home dressed to the nines, makeup flawless, hair immaculate, nails freshly done. Presentation matters, clearly, but only when it comes to the self, never to the space one inhabits.

Pride has been reduced to appearance, stripped of responsibility.

So, we must ask: what happened to us?

Many of us remember a different Bahamas. We grew up under programmes like “Keep Our Island Clean.” We all bought into it. As children, we were repeatedly taught that littering was unacceptable. In school, entire classes would take breaks to walk the grounds and pick up trash. It wasn’t punishment. It was conditioning. Cleanliness became part of our psyche.

At home, parents made us rake yards, sweep streets, and dispose of leaves properly. We didn’t have much, but what we had, we respected. The school was clean. The yard was clean. The roadside was clean.

Not because we were rich, but because we cared.

Today, we see garbage piling up on the very streets we live on and do nothing. Because we didn’t create the mess, we refuse to correct it. This is the mentality that keeps societies stagnant.

Worse yet, we have imported attitudes that normalise squalor. When people bring cultures that do not prioritise cleanliness or community responsibility, and face no expectation to adapt, the result is predictable. If it’s not their country, they have little incentive to care how it looks. But the greater failure lies with us for allowing standards to collapse rather than insisting newcomers rise to them.

Let’s be clear: this is not about nationality. It is about norms. Any society that tolerates disorder will eventually be defined by it.

And disorder does not stay confined to garbage. It seeps into attitude. It infects behaviour. It breeds intolerance. When people live in chaos, they begin to think chaotically. Is it any wonder that conflict resolution is failing in our schools? Do disagreements escalate quickly? Does that respect feel increasingly rare? Environment shapes mindset.

So how do we fix this?

It starts with courage, civic courage. Real conversations on our streets. Neighbours holding neighbours accountable, respectfully but firmly. Communities deciding collectively that filth will no longer define them. Parents supporting teachers instead of undermining them when children are asked to clean up after themselves.

When a teacher tells your child to pick up garbage at school, stop responding with, “My child is not a janitor.”

No, they are not, but they are citizens in training. They are learning what responsibility looks like. If that lesson isn’t reinforced at home, don’t be surprised when they grow up believing the mess is always someone else’s problem.

We must also stop outsourcing responsibility to politicians. Members of Parliament and civic organizations who show up to clean neighbourhoods deserve credit, but let’s be honest: it’s not their job to clean our properties. When elected officials are forced to do what citizens should already be doing, it is a national embarrassment, not a success story.

Too many of us stay quiet because we don’t want to ruffle feathers. We’d rather tolerate decay than risk uncomfortable conversations. By commission or omission, we allow the mess to swallow us.

That is a third-world mentality.

The first world is not a place on a map. It has no colour, no nationality, no exclusive passport. The first world is a mindset. It is discipline. It is a responsibility. It is respect for law, for neighbours, for shared space, and for self.

If we truly want to be seen as developing, let alone being developed, we must behave like people who value order. Clean streets are not cosmetic, they are symbolic. They signal self-worth. They announce standards. They tell the world, “We care.”

And this matters economically, whether we like it or not. Tourism is our bread and butter. No visitor wants to vacation in filth. No investor is inspired by disorder. No country earns respect while being oblivious to decay.

You must think highly of yourself before you can expect others to think highly of you.

Facing reality, cleaning up is not just about garbage. It is about mindset renewal. It is about reclaiming pride. It is about collectively deciding that we are better than this.

We cannot keep talking about moving into the first world while dragging third-world habits behind us. Progress demands discipline. Development demands responsibility. Pride demands action.

The first world will never come to us.

We must become it.